How I Found You
by Sherlockian Dreams
Summary: Sherlock Holmes had always, secretly wanted a friend, and when their new neighbours host a small party, he believes it is the best time to try and make one. AU, based loosely off Cinderella. No Johnlock.


How I found you

_A/n: this is the second letswritesherlock challenge, which should be based off a Fairytale. This one is based very, very loosely off Cinderella, so yeah, enjoy! It's my first attempt at AU. Not Johnlock. Just bromance x_

**disclaimer: I do not own these amazing characters, or the Fairytale Cinderella. **

I had always, somewhat secretly, wanted a friend.  
Just one. Someone to talk to, to vent off, maybe even to take to cases with me.  
It was a strange thought, something so far away from my usual, emotionless state, and one I would never even dare admit to Mycroft, or mummy, but a thought non the less.  
No, Mycroft and mummy would laugh if I said anything about a friend. Such a thing was completely ridiculous, especially for me. Though mummy never admitted it, my old childhood therapist had explicitly said, sociopath.  
Sociopaths didn't care for friends.  
That being said, I had gotten to the point in my life where the loneliness of my own existence hurt. There was no one to talk to. No one to sit with, no one even, perhaps, to start a relationship with?  
The thoughts were ridiculous, stupid. It made me feel ordinary.  
So I was not surprised at all when, after one of our new neighbours invited us to a 'drinks evening', I was not invited.  
"You won't want to go really," mummy said carefully, as she packed her small, sparkly beaded bag and smiled at herself in the mirror, "you'll only get bored,"  
That was true enough. I was particularly prone to large bouts of boredom and when they did occur, things tended to get dissected, blown up or thrown from various heights. Such occurrences where generally regular and mummy was never happy when they happened. Though then again, I had never been mummy's favourite, because I didn't look at all like daddy. Mycroft looked like daddy, and thats all she cared for since he died.  
That was why I couldn't wait to leave, and live my own life.  
Make my own friends. Without any judgements.  
I watched her quietly from the staircase. She was excited about tonight (she'd put on her very favourite, and rather strong perfume) and she was eager to make a good impression on the new neighbours (evidence of what she was wearing and the tie she'd forced on Mycroft).  
"I would like to meet them though," I said, just as carefully, almost mirroring her tone, "they are the people we are living next to,"  
"By meet, you mean you want to deduce everything and anything about them," Mycroft said slyly in the corner, "and piss them off,"  
My head shot around, and I glared at the back of his pompous head.  
"When I say meet, I mean I want to meet them," I said irritably.  
"You won't like it Sherlock," Mummy said, "stay here, we won't be late back, probably about midnight, okay?"  
"Why does Mycroft get to go?" I grumbled, feeling incredibly childish but altogether annoyed at my position. Being stuck at home couldn't be more boring! I would rather go swimming in the Thames. And I hated swimming.  
"Mycroft is older," oh that excuse. I always heard that excuse. I hated that excuse.  
"We'll be back soon," mummy said with another smile.  
And then they left, and I was alone.  
No. No they were not going to do that to me. Me. Of all people.  
I simply refused to be left at home when something exciting was going on.  
I might even find a friend.  
I made up my mind quickly; in almost record speed (for me anyway) I'd got changed in my best clothes, smartening it up so much, I felt like I was all neat corners and folded edges.  
Of course logically, looking smart would make me much harder to recognise, plus they weren't expecting me to show up, so I should be okay as far as getting spotted was concerned.  
As long as I got back before midnight.  
I stared at myself confidently in the mirror a little while longer. A long, thin, pale man stared back, his hair an array of dark messy curls, tipping in all different directions. His blue eyes were hostile looking and unemotional. I felt my quiet confidence ebb away slowly. Was this going to work? Was I ever going to get a friend if my eyes looked like that?  
No, I was going, this was going to work.  
So quietly, I snuck out the back window carefully and headed around to the house on the opposite side of the street.  
It wasn't hard to guess which house it was. The tall building was the only one in the street with the fairy lights strung up around the windows and a bright, blazing light coming from the front room. I smirked to myself that I was coming anyway, despite being told otherwise, and headed for the door.  
I knocked loudly.  
A youngish woman with dyed red, pixie cut hair opened it, and blinked up at me.  
"Oh ello," she stated (I almost winced at the common accent).  
"Hi," I said, putting on my most friendly, human, voice, "Is this the party thing, sorry I'm a little late, I was told to come around?" I smiled a little shyly to finish the piece off.  
The woman blinked again, and then broke into a large smile. It looked as though my acting skills had done it.  
"Nice to meet ya," she stuck out a hand promptly and I shook it, grinning, "I'm Harry. Harry Watson,"  
"Sherlock-," I began, before cutting it short, I didn't want to be associated with Mycroft. Not tonight.  
"Well come in then," she cocked her head. I followed her in.  
The house was small but comfortable looking with a narrow hall and staircase. The light and some loud music was coming from the first door on the hall. I followed Harry in and found the room crowded with all the people from my street. Mummy was in the corner with a sullen Mycroft (I ducked my head so they wouldn't see me), the old couple with the seven cats were sitting together clutching cups of tea. No- coffee. The dysfunctional couple with two children and different affairs were chatting easily to the other young couple from across the road (the ones with the high paid job and the new car by the looks of it). Harry introduced me to a chair, the opposite side from Mycroft and mummy, and floated off to get me a drink.  
I sat, feeling awkward, and not all together confident about this little daring visit. If it was just Harry Watson, I was never going to make a friend. Judging by her face and hands, she was an alcoholic- I squinted over to where she was standing in the cramped kitchen.  
Yep, definitely an alcoholic.  
Stop it, I shouldn't be doing this, I should be meeting people. I quickly shook myself out of it, and gazed at the ceiling instead.  
Harry reappeared with a glass of- hmm, red wine?  
"Make yourself at home," she grinned, " thanks for coming,"  
I nodded, and smiled until she left. Then, I dropped it, and sighed. The music was too loud, the room was too stuffy, I was already starting to get bored.  
And I didn't want to.  
No sooner had she gone before a man I didn't recognise came over to me. He seemed to be of the military type (haircut, straight back) but he had a bad limp, so... Wounded in action maybe? I needed data. My eyes flashed to his face as he approached.  
"You seem to be the newest guy in the room," he said with a tight smile, "Harry really does like meeting new people," he awkwardly rubbed his forehead, shoulders stiff.  
"She seems like a friendly person," I tell him honestly, not really sure what else to say. From the way he spoke about her, he obviously knew her more than the rest of us. So: brother? Cousin? Close friend?  
"I'm John by the way," the man says finally, breaking my train of thought. He limps over and plonks himself next to me, "Harry's brother,"  
I was right then, I nod at him.  
"I'm Sherlock," I told him. I'm quite nervous about this man. He's making so much more of an effort than anyone else has ever made with me. It's. It's a nice feeling.  
John smiles again, "nice to meet you Sherlock,"  
We sit in silence for a while, in which time I pondered almost everything that could go wrong, which in turn leads to severe anxiety (something I really wasn't used to). I fidgeted. Any moment now, he would do what many people do when they realise I don't speak. He would leave.  
For god's sake, think of something to say! My mind works over time. What was there, what!?  
"Do you have any family here tonight?" Thank god. John speaks again; I breathe a gentle sigh of relief.  
"Not really," I reply, then in an undertone, "they don't know I'm here,"  
His eyes widen, growing round, "oh," he nodded understandingly, "I know what you mean, Harry's like that sometimes. I can't wait to get away from her,"  
I laugh. I laugh because its relatable, but the laughter surprises me. I can't remember the last time I laughed. I stop quickly, shyly.  
"She has a drinking problem doesn't she?" I ask when I get my breath back.  
John leans back, looking shocked.  
"How...how do you know that?"  
I know I shouldn't. I really do. I know it will drive him away and I will be left alone and I will prove mummy right again.  
But I can't help it.  
"It's obvious by the shadows under her eyes and the rather expensive collection of wine in the cabinet in the kitchen, under the window. Also by the shaking in her hands and the scratch marks around her mobile phone," I reel it off, and then immediately wish I hadn't of.  
Shit, I've done it again.  
John stares at me, completely dumbfounded.  
I wait. I wait for him to get up and leave, or tell me to piss off, or the usual.  
I wait. I even close my eyes. The fear is terrible. I wish I didn't fear this. It would make it so much easier.  
"That..." John begins, and I tense, waiting for the blow to fall, and be told I'm a freak, and a weirdo and I don't belong in society, "...was amazing,"  
My eyes fly open, and my head shoots up so quickly, my neck clicks. I stare at him in amazement.  
"You think so?" I don't believe it. Not one second.  
"Of course it was," he gasps, mouth slightly open, "it was extraordinary, quite extraordinary,"  
I suddenly realise that I really, really like John Watson.  
"Thanks," I feel quite shy now, completely and utterly unused to such treatment, and I don't know what to say. Instead, I settle for a smile. A proper smile. John smiles back, and it's genuine this time, there's no tightness around his lips.  
"Harry does have a drinking problem, yeah," he said quietly, "which is why I came to live with her. On her own she's...dangerous sometimes. She arranged this thing for me, says I need a friend," he chuckles dryly.  
John needed a friend too? Was this coincidence, or just complete luck?  
I give John another smile.  
John spoke to no one else the entire evening. Only to me. We talked, we laughed (in his case mostly) and whenever someone else came over, John would gently dismiss them, saying cheerfully, "this is my friend".  
I felt a warm bubble of feeling well up in my chest, something I wasn't used to. The warm bubble made me feel happy. Happy at this man with his sandy blonde hair and navy eyes and easy smile. Happy at his laughter and his appreciation for my deductions (something very alien). Happy that he was indeed calling me his friend.  
My very first friend.  
I wasn't finding the event boring at all. And that was a first for me. In fact, I actually enjoyed it for once. I enjoyed it so much, that the time flew.  
It was ten to midnight before I realised that I had to go, and go quickly, before mummy and Mycroft found out about my adventure.  
I stood up abruptly, and John's smile dropped, glancing up quizzically.  
"I need to go," I said hurriedly, straightening my suit, and shuffling a little. No one had left yet, and my leaving would undoubtedly create a scene if I wasn't careful, "say thank you to Harry for me,"  
Before John could say another word, I left, walking swiftly from the room, head down, eyes trained to the floor.  
By the time I got back to my house, I had three minutes before Mycroft and mummy would get home. I changed into my dressing gown, and sat alone in the lounge. Leaving John like that made me feel guilty. More than that, I felt... Sad. Deeply sad. And more lonely than I ever had before.  
I sighed.  
The sound of keys in the door told me Mycroft was back, and I quickly resumed my normal position on the sofa, eyes closed, fingers steepled under my chin. Thoughts of John kept swimming in my brain. I took a deep breath just before they entered the room.  
"We're back Sherlock!" Mummy burst into the lounge, looking flushed and very happy, obviously a bit tipsy then, "told you we wouldn't be long,"  
I said nothing, inwardly relieved that she was a little drunk, it meant she wouldn't notice that I'd gone out.  
"We tried phoning you," Mycroft came in, looking irritated, "why didn't you pick it up?"  
"Because I hate you," I suggested politely, though my stomach suddenly dropped in horror.  
My phone, I'd dropped my phone!  
It was still at John's house!  
Shit.  
"See this is exactly why you weren't invited," mummy scalded me softly, with a giggle, "you are too obnoxious to talk to,"  
Well that was low. I could certainly tell she was drunk in any case. There was no way a careful, sober mummy would say something like that to me. Any moment now she would start talking about daddy, and that was not a conversation I wanted to be part of. She would be all over Mycroft, with his slightly ginger hair and bulky figure, and mourn over my thin angular one, and the dark curls I'd inherited from my aunt.  
I slipped off the sofa and slouched off to my room, where I proceeded to lie on my bed, a sickening hollowness in my stomach. An indescribable loss of the worst kind. Something I hadn't felt before.  
Would I ever see John again?

The next day, the street was in complete uproar, for some strange, unknown (boring) reason I didn't want to know.  
I sat sulkily in my favourite chair, sipping my sour coffee and trying to ignore mummy's continuous complaints about the noise (she had a terrible headache). Mycroft was still in his room.  
Well, I was ignoring her until:  
"What is that strange man doing at the door? What's his name again," she grumbled, floundering for the name in her addled brain, "John! That's it!"  
My head snapped up, my heart lifting so quickly, it felt like it was in my throat, about to fly off.  
John.  
John.  
John was at my door!  
I sprang up, ready to answer, before I realised that I wasn't supposed to know John at all.  
Had I given myself away?  
Well, I didn't care anyway.  
I went to the door anyway, ignoring mummy's confused shouting.  
I flung open the door.  
John was standing there, those dark navy eyes shining. His face lit up as his eyes met my searching ones. My heart seemed to flutter.  
"Sherlock," he said.  
"John," I replied, a little breathlessly I had to admit. It was strange, really. I wasn't used to these sort of emotions. They were frightening, unusual, completely out of my comfort zone. But seeing this person on my doorstep. Just another human being, like many others that I had paid no interest to, yet he already seemed to have lodged himself straight into my mind. As if he'd known exactly how to do it.  
"I've been searching for you everywhere," John said, relief and joy colouring his voice. He smiled, that genuine, beautiful smile that lit up his whole face, and reached out his hand.  
It was small, lined, and tan, and yet it was the most welcoming hand that had ever been offered to me. He was reaching out, willingly, for me to take it. There was friendship in the gesture.  
So I hesitantly outstretched my own pale, thin one, and placed it into John Watson's. it was warm and soft and comforting. He laced his fingers between mine. It was perfect, as if they'd been made for each other.  
"Come with me," he said it like a question, so shyly, yet there was confidence too. In his grip on my hand. The warm companionship of it was something I could probably never replicate in my mind, and a feeling I wished to have now often.  
I followed John down the street, to a quiet corner near the road. This is where he stopped, his eyes bright with barely contained excitement. He, disappointingly, dropped my hand.  
"You forgot your phone," he said breathlessly, pulling it from his back pocket. I breathed a gentle sigh of relief when I saw it, and took it from him.  
"Thank you, I wondered where that had gone,"  
"Actually, you kinda dropped it on your...hasty way out," a glimmer of hurt crossed his sparkling eyes, but was quickly replaced. I swallowed.  
"Yes, about that... I'm sorry, I had to get home before my family did,"  
He shook his head grinning, "it's fine, don't worry,"  
He wasn't angry! He still wanted to be friends! Joy burst inside my chest, and suddenly I was smiling widely. I hadn't smiled like that in such a long time.  
"Thank you," I said again, actually meaning my words (which was new), "John," I added softly.  
John seemed like such a wonderful word to me. I felt like I could say it all day.  
"John," I said again, almost a whisper.  
He giggled, "you're mad, do you know that?"  
I quirked my mouth up on one side, "I've been told that yes,"  
Just at that moment, my phone buzzed, and I glanced at it quickly.

Mycroft: come home

God damn that stupid man, always ruining everything.  
"I need to go now," I said, my spirits falling low.  
"Okay," a crestfallen John sighed, "well, until the next time then Sherlock Holmes,"  
I blinked in surprise at finding he knew my last name. He grinned at my expression. I didn't challenge it though.  
"Until the next time John Watson," I said softly.  
I turn, and begin to walk away from John in the corner.  
"Hey Sherlock?" John's voice sounded, making me turn, almost dizzyingly quickly, on the spot.  
I stand silently and wait.  
"There's also one other thing you forgot yesterday," he said, walking towards me, dark eyes shining.  
"And what was that?" I am genuinely confused, and I really don't see what's coming next.  
"You forgot to say goodbye," John is so close now, I can see the slight dusting of freckles on his cheeks, and on the bridge of his nose.  
And with that, he leans close, and closes the gap between us.  
He hugs me, tightly, gently, and at first I am completely paralysed with shock. This is new. So new, and yet, I really like it. I like the warmth, and softness enfolded in John's arms. Slowly, I wrapped my own arms around him, and hugged him back.  
After a long moment like that, John let me go, smiling widely.  
"You needed to go?' He asked, one eyebrow raised.  
I blink, feeling a bit wooley and numb.  
"Right," I nod jerkily, "right, well er-," I cleared my throat, "well, goodbye John,"  
'Goodbye Sherlock," he replied, "see you soon,"  
"Yeah," I grin widely, then turn, and walk away.

A/n: let me know what you think! X


End file.
